


Conclave

by AudibleSmirk



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Pre-Conclave, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Pre-Explosion, The Conclave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudibleSmirk/pseuds/AudibleSmirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did it come to be that Lavellan came upon Corypheus, The Divine and that strange orb, changing her life forever?  Drabble, drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conclave

There was muffled shouting - the first signs of a trickling panic beginning to fill the air, signs that something had gone wrong.

The ground below her steps was silent, though having she doubting having to worry that issue.   She kept to the shadows mostly, hood tucked safely over her ears, not quiet hiding her identity from anyone keen on taking a closer look.  Not that anyone would - or had - for that matter.   So many shemlen, all over the place;  some meandering, some striding off with purpose. So many gathered; not just humans, but bodies of all races, all ranks, here for all sorts of intentions.   Most looked uncomfortable, tense.  Afraid.   No one was looking one another in the eye, and if they did, their judgements had already been made.

She was not there as a spy, per say.   An observer.  An Ambassador, politely put.  With a watchful eye on the Mage Rebellion, her Keeper had finally made the decision; send a member of clan Lavellen to the Conclave, in the middle of this desperate attempt at peace talks between factions boiling just under the surface of poorly hidden distrust and judgement.   As Second, it had been her trusted with overseeing the talks on behalf of her clan, only there to listen, to bring back word on how this turbulent rebellion might bring war to their doorstep.

The fact that she was a mage in the middle of a Mage Rebellion, and a knife-ear mage to boot, left her skin crawling as she marched through throngs of bodies, tension everywhere. It was a worry that had not gone unspoken before she had departed, but had been fatefully dismissed with little more than inspiring words spoken to one that needed them.   She was Second for a reason, and not solely because she was a mage.  Only she could do this, her Keeper had said, for she had proven herself and she trusted her instincts above all others. It was her duty, and it was important.  They needed her.

She had kept her distance best she could.  She had been there only a couple of days, and the peace talks, it was finally said, would be tomorrow at dawn.   It hadn't taken much exploring to recognize the places that were a hotbed for potential trouble, and even less time to learn how to maneuver around them.   Avoiding Qunari mercenaries scattered throughout had thrown her at first - never had she imagined them to be so large, so intimidating in size alone.  She had darted around them with less grace than she would've liked, but they hardly spared her a glance. She'd found places best suited for mingling, and those best suited for hiding, listening, years of slipping in and out of human villages without causing a stir making the task of blending in almost effortless.   Though, the job of being discreet had almost been done for her.  Everyone was already suspicious of everyone else, and there were many more things to catch the eye about than the presence of another small body, another possible this or that with their head down, air about them of nothing.

Men in armor ran by her, their shields clanking on their backs.   A group of humans in robes followed soon after, huddled together in conversation, their pace quick.

"--Murdered!”

“I overheard one of them speaking, and then they all rushed off!"

She tipped her face away, glancing toward the direction the mages had come from, her back slipping away from the wall.   Most of those that been around her were now moving away, away from the open courtyard of the Temple of Sacred Ashes and down into the wide streets where she stood, following after the armored men toward whatever warranted such attention.  They moved quicker now, almost rushing, the sounds of shouts and broken information flooding her ears.

"Fire everywhere!  They're trying to put out the fire!"

The mood was shifted noticably; long simmering with unease now finally spilling over, all that pent up anxiety finding a source of release in an event inevitably occurring. Wary, she shook her head.  Something felt off, though she couldn't pin it. There was too much going on, too suddenly.   It did not surprise her that something had finally happened in this volatile environment, yet it unnerved her, watching the bodies around her hurry off like herded halla.

She pressed close to the building, working her away against the crowd and back toward where they were coming from.  Seeing the incident firsthand could be beneficial, but only if she thought it important - and at the moment, her instinct was telling her it was not.   It would not be safe to delve into a crowd ripe with nerves;  all those Templars and mages, all the distrusted Qunari and battle-ready Dwarves, all wary, a waiting spark in a room of gaatlok.

The rushing crowd had thinned, the sounds in the air moving further and further away from her until they were far in the distance, her Elven only just hearing them.   It was eerily quiet now.   Goosebumps formed on her skin - there wasn't a single soul outside the Temple, no guards, no priests.   The ancient structure looked old and abandoned, somehow more intimating than before.

She'd not been inside it.  Not many had.  Only a few had come and gone from the structure since she'd arrived, always the same few faces, quietly in and out.  They took nothing with them, and brought nothing out.   She had suspected another way in at first, but had found nothing.  As she reached to pull the heavy metal handle, she watched her fingers shake slightly, wondering if she had time again to look for an alternate way in.  An uneasy feeling had settling over her.   Her Keeper had sent her here because she trusted her instinct - an instinct she was known for and trusted in, that had rarely ever failed her.  It had saved her, frankly, on more than one occasion and right now, it was pulsing inside her with a ferocity like a kick to the gut.

_Danger_.

Her ears pricked, the faint sound of a shout from inside the Temple driving her forward. The door swung open easily, making no noise.   It was dark inside save for the light streaming in behind her,  but her eyes afforded her perfect clarity in the scene before her.  Smoke filled her eyes, tendrils of it from torches recently put out climbing large banners that adored old stone walls impressively well preserved.  Her quiet footsteps still echoed in the large space as she entered, pushing herself forward with each step further into the darkness.   Her ears strained for more sounds, every fiber of her being alive with attention.   It was deserted.  Empty.

No matter what had happened further down the mountain, it could not be possible that every single person had fled the Temple.  The further in she went, the more her body tensed, ready to flee, ready to fight, ready--

Her boot caught, and she looked down, breath catching.   She spared the dead body scorched under a pew below her a stunned look before sprinting off, flinging her body around the corner and down the corridor, dread now seeping it's way into her chest.  Something had gone wrong -- very wrong -- but it was not the intentional chaos she was now sure had purposefully sent so many away from this place.  It was here, it was in the Temple, left unguarded and vulnerable, bodies strewn across it's floors.

**_"Now is the hour of our victory ..."_ **

The voice broke over her like ice, and she jumped, startled as she huddled herself against the wall.  For a moment, she did not breathe, the voice seeming to come from everywhere around her, creeping inside her.  Toward the end of the hall was a faint light, glowing from underneath a doorway and she sprinted toward it, the air beginning to tingle around her with a familiar crackle of magic.

"Why are you doing this?  You of all people?"

Another voice - softer, female, not poison in her ears.  So much fainter than the last, the words almost lost in the noise of her footfall, the pounding of her heart in her throat. She found more bodies, sharp eyes catching their still silhouettes in the dark, her steps quick but careful to miss them.   All those that had not followed their curiosity out of the Temple had--

**_"Keep the sacrifice still."_ **

Her hands stilled on the door before she could press forward, that voice again breaking through, washing over her, a shudder arcing down her spine.  The magic inside only felt familiar now in the sense that it was magic, but whatever kind it was pricked at her, made her hesitate.

"Someone help me!"

She flung the door open with enough force to send her stumbling slightly inside the room, eyes wide and bright on the scene before her.  "What's going on here?"

The words came out before she could stop them, demanding.   She felt bizarre in a way the word had never held meaning to her before.  Twisted, gnarled and grotesque, the creature before her held it's arm out toward it's captive, a ball of bright green light shining in it's unnatural hand.  Templar's surrounded the scene, magic streaming from them, connecting them.   In the middle of it all was The Divine, the human’s Most Holy, held aloft, bound by magic.  Terrified.

And the moment she had spoken, all eyes had turned to look at her.  

Time seemed to slow, but everything would happen too fast.  The creature's eyes on her, The Divine reacted swiftly to the distraction, flinging an arm out and smacking the glowing light from the creatures hand, sending it flying across the room and toward her.

Instinct made her dart to her left - a natural reaction - reaching out as it hit the ground, bounced towards her and straight into her awaiting hand.

The moment her fingers closed around the orb, pain wracked her body, bending her spine and sending a cry through her. Agony swam through her, tearing her apart from the inside out.  The scene was lost before her.  All she could see was bright, blinding green, the color of her pain.  It crackled inside her in anger, stretching through her as if it could never have enough space, would not be contained within her small form.  White noise filled her ears, filled her until she was all but lost in it.  It melded to her, devoured her, claimed her completely.

Then, she burst.

She felt the explosion, but it did not touch her.   She did not see the creature reach for her, did not see the utter destruction the befell everything around her as the orb exploded in light, ripping her away.

Power clamped down on her mind, images fluttering inside her like a picture-book of memories;  long hair in a breeze, bright blue eyes alight in mischief, in hope.  Mirrors, mosaics, pathways, fate, a place of home.  A sense of purpose.  Paints, snow in the sky, fluttering, howling, like a prayer.  Love, too bright, so full, all-powerful, burning, eclipsing.  A broken bone, blood, palm to palm, aching, wanting.  Moments, words and noises and wisdom and hate, anger, isolation, pain, so much pain.  They came and went, imprinting on her, leaving traces on her like a dream lost to the moment of waking, so real and then gone.  

Gone.

"Da'len?"

Her eyes snapped up, coming back into focus on the the apostate sitting before her, her _hahren_ , a bemused expression on his unusually charming face.

"Uh?"

He smiled at her thoughtful reply, pushing forward.  "I asked what drew you to Corypheus," he reiterated with patience, though he eyed her with mild fascination.  "Why was it that you were the one to so coincidentally stumbled upon the events unfolding at the Temple?"

Considering him for a moment, she wondered herself.   Regaining her memories of what had happened didn't necessarily answer all of the questions that she'd had.   Putting to rest the notion that Andraste had risen her, had saved her from the Fade had been a relief matched only by a wondering of _how_ , then?  _Why_?   Had it been coincidence, as Solas put it?  Mere happenstance, an instinctive decision that had altered her life so drastically it rendered it hardly recognizable?  Luck, as Varric once told her - whether good or bad, had it simply been her luck that pointed her in that fateful direction?  Or fate?  Was that instinct only placed in her to nudge her toward a destiny that truly was her own, designed by a power beyond her comprehension? Dare she consider herself so mighty?  Worthy?  Destined.

She'd likely never know, not really.   More than likely, she was simply cursed.

"Truthfully?"  With a shrug, she ducked her head a bit, the sort of smile gracing her lips that only appeared for something she and only she would find funny.   "I was looking for a loo and heard shouting."

Solas blinked at her before his mouth twitched into a small, disbelieving smile, nodding.  "Of course, Inquisitor."

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that popped into my head one day. Any particular reason why Lavellan was the one that ended up confronting Corypheus at the Conclave? Who knows.


End file.
